


Ballerina Facial Sam

by Pronkbaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ballet, Crack, Impala, Weird, bizarre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pronkbaggins/pseuds/Pronkbaggins
Summary: For reference to the "sandwich incident," please see the enlightening work "Salad Sandwich Dean."
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Ballerina Facial Sam

It had been three weeks since the salad sandwich Dean incident. Sam had not been able to touch a salad for that amount of time, but today was going to be different. Actually being your favorite food took a lot out of you, and Sam was still hesitant to get too close to Dean when he was hungry. 

“Got us a case” Dean said, slamming a newspaper down in front of Sam and continuing into the kitchen. 

“Oh?”

Dean cracked open a beer and grinned. He just knew this case would be a great excuse for him to enjoy a day at the spa. He could always spin it right for Sammy - a nice day checking out the hottest masseuse girls in town? He’d be down for that.

Sam looked at Dean with some expectation for explanation, his expression growing tired like a bicyclist who had been shot with 100 tranquilizers. 

“Yeah, check it out. Front page. Place called ‘Barre Spa’ had three customers die in three days time. Sounds like it’s our kind of thing” Dean said, gesturing with his beer. 

“Uh huh” Sam said, looking at the front page which featured a young pretty girl crying in front of a fancy looking spa. Something about the photo intrigued him, but he didn’t know what. 

“So, whaddya say? Pack it up. Let’s go.”

“Dean, I’ve barely even woken up” Sam sighed, throwing the paper aside “and what, you want to just pack up and head to California to check out a case that could just be three random normal deaths?”

“Quit your whining, Sammy. I say this could be our kind of thing.”

“And it has nothing to do with some girl?”

“What are you accusing me of?” Dean said, winking at Sam. 

Sam rolled his eyes and got ready to pack up. As he went to the bathroom to wash his face he noticed his skin was getting kind of dry. He pushed his hair back to shave his sideburns somewhat and noticed his stubble was getting a little out of hand now too. 

He suddenly felt sleepy. A voice called out to him - Sam….Sam….Do something about your complexion before it’s too late.

The next thing he knew he was waking up in the passenger seat of the impala. He let out a heavy hollow gasp and looked over at Dean, who just seemed amused. 

“You passed out Sammy. You weren’t kidding about not being awake, ahaha! I got some nice pictures of you to put in Instagram” Dean chortled.

“You use Instagram…?”

Dean went silent and shrugged. 

“Anyways, Dean, we have to go to this Barre Resort or whatever. We have to.”

“We’re on our way there. What made you change your mind?”

Sam flipped down the sun visor and opened up the mirror. He checked his jaw and face in some horror. 

“Drive faster” he demanded. 

“Woah. Get your panties out of a knot, we’re going. But I had dibs on the hot masseuse girl.”

“Whatever, Dean” Sam said. He had more important things to worry about. 

As soon as they arrived, Sam bolted out of the car faster than a boomerang forgetting the laws of physics. He ignored Dean’s shouts of protest. He didn’t even bother to put on the FBI suit. He just ran into the main reception area out of breath. 

A young ballerina greeted him, her hair up in a bun. 

“May I help you?” she asked sweetly. 

“I….I know I am supposed to be here” Sam said, feeling sheepish about just bursting in. 

“Oh. You were called” the ballerina said softly “not many men get called here.”

“Called?” Sam asked, furrowing his brow. 

“Follow me. I will take you to our main room. You are having trouble with your complexion, yes?” the young girl said, balancing on her point shoes as she led Sam down a corridor. 

“Could we hurry this up please? My brother will be here soon” Sam said nervously. 

“Has he been called too?”

“I don’t think so” Sam responded, scratching at his stubble and wanting to get this over with. The ballerina girl was very pretty, and there was something about the way she carried herself that almost made Sam...envious?

The girl led him to a luxurious spa room complete with large windows, mood music, woodland scents, and clean beds. 

“Here at Barre Spa we only accept those who have been called in. Those who are called are special. They were born to dance at the barre and they are desperate need of a facial to replenish their special complexions” the girl said “so...what is your name, sir?”

“Sam” he replied, not sure he should give her this information. How could he be called to such a place. 

“Sam. Let’s get your hair in a bun. It will help us start the facial and will help you with your ballet training before you can go back into the world. You’re flexible, correct?” the girl said. 

“Uhhh flexible enough. Wait...a bun?” Sam said even more nervously, shoving his hands in his pockets “ballet?”

The girl curtsied and did a pirouette in response. 

“Sam! SAM! Where are you???” Dean’s voice boomed somewhere down the hall. 

“Ma’am, weren’t there some deaths that occurred at this spa?” Sam said, not wanting Dean to catch him here. 

The girl didn’t listen. Some other male and female ballerinas suddenly appeared and began to do Sam’s hair in a bun and handed him a leotard and tights. 

“Yes” one of them said “but they were all elderly people who were called here. They couldn’t withstand the ballet. But their faces looked fantastic when they were done.”

“That’s creepy” Sam said, trying to shove them off “I’m not wearing this.”

He could still hear his brother looking for him like a child looks for a cube in a world of circles. 

“But you must! You will find the facial cleansing so much more pleasant. Then, you will dance with us to The Nutcracker. Then you will leave feeling replenished” the original ballerina smiled “just lay down on one of these beds and we will begin.”

Sam reached for the gun he had tucked in the back of his pants, but it was missing. 

“Barre Spa does not condone weapons” one of the male ballerinas said, clicking his tongue and shoving the gun aside. 

Sam grimaced and did his best to look okay with this. What were these, shapeshifters? Ghouls?

“I don’t want a facial” he said quickly “and I have had enough of ‘the Nutcracker’ for a lifetime.”

It was no use. The ballerinas forced Sam’s massive six foot four body onto the bed and got to work. They increased the volume in the soft music and began to pamper Sam’s face despite his struggles to make them stop. He had to admit, sadly, it did feel pretty good. 

But then they tried to get him to wear the leotard after putting his hair in a bun. 

“NO!” he shouted, accidentally kicking one of the ballerinas down. He struggled out of the bed and ran for the door, not ever looking back.


End file.
